A Golden Quartet
by NaimoPurplePen03
Summary: What if there was another member of the Golden Trio? A Golden Quartet perhaps? What if Emma, an outspoken 11 year old, arrived on that same fateful evening? Becoming friends with the intelligent Hermione, ginger-haired Ron, and the one and only Harry Potter; she excels in every class. But imagine what would happen if a certain blond haired troublemaker was thrown in to the mix?


**Author's Note: Hello everyone! This is my first story so please don't be mean... Haha lol be as mean as you want! ;) Right now, the rating is set as K+ but as we advance in to the story, it might become T. You have been warned. :P **

**Disclaimer/ I do not own anything. (Except my Original Character) All rights go to the people that made Harry Potter.**

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The glorious red train sat there, gleaming in the autumn sunlight. Emma gaped in awe. Mothers and fathers jostled about around her, while students, like herself, hurried to board and find a seat. The train was to leave on the dot of 11, and the time was already five-to. The train was packed with students, mostly first years like herself. She walked amidst the many compartments, trying to find one that was free.

She saw ginger haired twins looking in a large box in one of the more crowded compartments. Something made them all jump, and as they stepped back in alarm, Emma caught sight of something hairy. She shuddered and hurried by.

In another compartment, two boys were practically swimming in sweets! Their seats were covered in everything from Chocolate Frogs to Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. One of them had ginger hair, so Emma guessed he was related to the twins she had seen earlier.

In the next compartment, Emma saw two other boys – not particularly bright by the looks of it. A pale boy with blond hair and grey eyes accompanied them. Whoa, Emma thought. Now there's someone worth looking at! He composed himself with a certain air of refinement, giving his demeanour a superior edge, one of power and control.

As she passed – staring, quite frankly – the pale one looked up at her. A magnetic pull drew Emma towards him; so much so that she stopped dead in the middle of the corridor. It was like his eyes held secrets, leaking out look by look. If you look in the right place, eyes really do help you see. What Emma saw in this boy's eyes was a hunger so deep, so raw, she couldn't help but want more, emitting a hunger of her own. He hungered for praise and worthiness and she longed for his trust and comfort.

For a moment, they shared a connection; a look that could never be forgotten. Then it was lost, the hunger replaced by a cocky façade. The hidden pain was gone too, and in its place stood a cold and malicious gleam. He grinned and winked at her, obviously flirting, but the happy expression on his face did not make him look any less menacing. The last thing Emma saw before she turned away were his eyes. The beautiful grey eyes of forbidden secrets.

After wandering aimlessly for the most part of the third cart, Emma came across an empty compartment. Or mostly empty. Only one girl sat inside. Intensely reading a book, her head was bent down, bushy hair flying out in all directions.

"Erm, hi. I'm Emma."

"Hello," the girl smiled. "I'm Hermione Granger." She saw Emma standing there awkwardly and gestured for her to take a seat. "Please."

"Sorry to have interrupted your reading," Emma said politely.

"Not a problem!"

"What book?"

"Hogwarts a History," Hermione replied, showing her the cover.

"Cool," Emma answered, interested, her confidence growing. "I've read that one. Have you read the chapter about the Sorting Hat?"

"Not yet," Hermione admitted. "I've just finished the one about the magical ceiling, though. Isn't so interesting? I wonder if it was Dumbledore who came up with that or one of the original founders?"

Emma shivered slightly at the word "magical". Sometimes it was hard to accept the fact that she was a witch! Not a bad witch, with green skin, warts, and nasty potions – although Potions were a mandatory class at Hogwarts. Emma was a young witch, not capable of anything too extreme. But, she would be in 7 short years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Only a month ago, Emma had received her Hogwarts letter, telling her that she had been accepted to the school. It also told her what materials she would need for doing magic and what books to buy in Diagon Alley. It had been quite a shock! Emma's family had always thought she was special – though just in the academic sense. Her parents were both Muggles, the wizard nickname for humans with non-magic blood. Emma sighed. It was hard thinking about her parents, painful even. She remembered her first magical experience being quite funny and she was just about to share it with Hermione when a round faced boy stepped in to their compartment.

"Have you seen a toad in here?" he asked frantically.

"Sorry," they shook their heads.

The boy moaned quietly. "When I find Trevor – _if _I find Trevor – Gran will just make me send him home!"

The girls shared sympathetic looks. "Maybe we can help," suggested Hermione timidly.

"Would you?" the boy sniffed sadly.

"Yes," she said more firmly, an idea forming in her brain. "Look, Emma and I will go down this way," she said pointing to the left. "And you can search going this way," she continued, pointing to the right.

"Thanks," he sniffed again. "I'm Neville Longbottom." He smiled and gave a sad chuckle. "You may be helping me with this quite a bit. I'm always forgetting things!"

…

After searching many compartments and not having any luck, the girls were ready to quit. They decided to check one last stall. It turned out to be the one Emma had seen earlier, with the boys and their sweeties.

Hermione barged in and said in an exasperated tone, "Have any of you boys seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one."

They seemed to have walked in during a spell! The red haired boy was holding a lazy looking rat in one hand and a worn out second-hand wand in the other.

Hermione's voice took on a tone of surprise underlined with interest. "Oh? Are you doing magic? Let's see then," she demanded.

The boy cleared his throat, clearly disappointed that he'd been interrupted. "_Sunshine, daisies, butter-mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!_"

All this rather peculiar spell managed to do was engulf the rat in a pool of bright sunlight.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" Hermione asked incredulously. "Well," she scoffed. "It's not very good, is it?" She plopped down across from the other boy, making herself quite comfortable. Emma stifled a laugh. The boy who now sat across from Hermione had dark scruffy hair and bright green eyes that stood out beneath his circular black glasses – the rim taped over many times due to several broken noses no doubt. Hermione now had _h__er_ wand out and was preparing for some magic of her own.

"I prefer to keep to simple spells myself," Hermione explained. "For example," she pointed to the glasses. "_Oc__c__ulus Reparo!"_

The glasses twittered and sparked, the tape flying off, revealing a sleek and unbroken rim. He took them off and stared in surprise.

"Holy Cricket!" Hermione exclaimed, noticing the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. "You're Harry Potter! Did you know that you're in four different books about famous wizards?"

"I-I am?" he stammered.

She smiled broadly and turned to the red head, searching his face. After deciding she had no clue who he was, she asked, "And... you are?"

He swallowed – no doubt some more candy – and answered, "Ron Weasley."

"Pleasure," she replied, regarding him with disdain. She turned back to Harry. "You two had better get in to your robes now, I expect we'll be arriving soon."

Hermione's advice was ignored as Harry stood up and took a step towards Emma. He stuck out a hand like a proper gentleman and introduced himself, "Harry Potter."

She ducked her head, embarrassed, but took his hand and replied with a smile, "Emma." Ron grinned and offered her a Pumpkin Pasty as a sign of what she could only assume was friendship, which she gladly accepted. After a quick nod of the head as a farewell, Hermione flounced out of the room, pulling Emma along with her by the crook of her elbow. Emma gave a last wave to the boys, when suddenly, she was pulled back again.

"You've got dirt on your nose by the way, did you know?" Hermione pointed at Ron's dirt speckled nose and hopped out of the room once more. Emma couldn't help it this time. She laughed.

…

When they reached their own compartment once more, Hermione and Emma were greeted by a slightly less frantic Neville.

"Did you find Trevor?" he asked hopefully.

"Sorry, no," Hermione replied.

"But guess who we did find?" Emma grinned.

"Who?"

"Harry Potter!" the girls cried in unison.

"No!" Neville gasped, dumbstruck. "The same Harry Potter who defeated You-Know-Who when he just a baby and is famous because of it?"

They nodded enthusiastically.

"The same Harry Potter with the lightning scar on his forehead?"

They nodded again.

"The same Harry Potter who-"

"That's enough Neville!" Emma interrupted.

Hermione laughed and grabbed Emma's hand. "Come on! Let's go see what other surprises the compartments hold!"

Their hands bound together symbolized a true friendship. One that would last forever.

…

The silence was unbearable; Emma could feel the tension growing.

After crossing the dark and dangerous Black Lake in small row boats, Emma and the others had been escorted to an empty classroom by a stern looking Professor McGonagall. They had been told to wait there until the rest of the school – seated in the Great Hall – were ready for their arrival. McGonagall had left the room to announce their accession to the congregation and that's when the nervous titters began. The nervous titters became hushed whispers and a glance or two at your neighbour. Now it was just plain silence.

Suddenly, the brisk _cloppety clop_ of a high heeled walk echoed on the walls as the Professor returned to the first years. Professor Minerva McGonagall's presence would have silenced the room if not for the fact the room was already silent. She had that effect on people. She stared at the students and they stared back at her with watchful eyes.

"In a moment," Professor McGonagall began in her captivating voice. "You will all be Sorted in to your houses. They are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Your Hogwart's house is like your family while you are here. Your triumphs will earn you house points and any rule breaking will lose you house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will receive the House Cup."

Emma resisted the urge to say "blah, blah, blah." She had heard all this information before from her Grandmother.

Quiet whispers begun again, students worrying about which house they would be put in and whether or not they'd be any good at magic. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and the room silenced once more.

"We're ready for you now," she announced ushering the others out the door and up the marble staircase which lead to the grand double doors of the Great Hall.

Inside the Great Hall sat four long tables – one for each Hogwart's house. Large banners hung from the ceiling advertising the Hogwart's emblem and the four houses. Yellow and black representing the loyal Hufflepuffs, their mascot was a badger. Whereas, Ravenclaw's black raven was portrayed on a banner of grey and blue. Rivals since the beginning of time itself, Gryffindor and Slytherin hung on opposites sides of the room. Sneaky silver and cunning green was the background for Slytherin's serpent and the bold lion of Gryffindor took favour in the brave shades of gold and red.

As other students goggled at the Hall and all it's wonders, Emma found herself drawn to the high ceiling. Hermione was right. It was magical.

Small, twinkling stars danced above their heads, shimmering in the candlelight as though they had come from heaven itself. Emma marvelled at the precision of each star, as they were a great reflection of the night's sky. They weren't real though. The ceiling was bewitched, made to look like the sky above. Only a true, powerful wizard could have conjured up such magical illusions. Thankfully, the Hogwart's staff was full of such witches and wizards. They sat together at the teacher's Head Table, where the first years had now gathered in a timid group.

In the centre of the teacher's table sat a man with long grey hair and an equally long beard. The greatest Headmaster Hogwarts had ever seen: Albus Dumbledore. Although his physique mirrored that of an old man, the merry twinkle in his eye was the true sign of a child at heart. Emma caught his eye and he smiled patiently behind his half moon spectacles, as if knew exactly what she was about to do. Knowing him, he probably did. Those twinkling eyes could see everything. Emma smiled guiltily.

Turning her attention back to McGonagall, Emma saw a three legged stool and an old witch's hat sitting on top of it. Professor McGonagall's voice was quiet, yet she had the whole school's attention. "When I call your name, you will come forth and I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head."

The hat sat on the stool, silent and unmoving. Suddenly the brim ripped open and the hat burst in to song,

"_I may be ratty, but I am smart,_

_My friends will tell you that;_

_There's no mind I cannot crack,_

_So place me upon your cap._

_You're at Hogwarts for a reason,_

_The letter told you so_

_It's my job as the Sorting Hat:_

_To put you where you ought to go._

_You may belong in Gryffindor,_

_Daring, fierce, and true_

_A brave heart is what it takes,_

_For Gryffindors follow through._

_If you are loyal and forgiving,_

_Patient 'til you bore,_

_Hufflepuff's where you'll find your bidding_

_A friend for evermore._

_Or maybe even Ravenclaw_

_Where intelligence is key_

_Ready to learn and full of wit_

_(Though none as smart as me.)_

_May I interest you in Slytherin?_

_Those cunning, fearless chaps_

_Nothing gets in their way_

_I'm well aware of that._

_So trust me with your future_

_You have nothing more to fear_

_I've done good so far, haven't I?_

_Come forth, and you shall hear."_

Everyone in the room exploded with applause. McGonagall reached down to remove the hat from the stool. "Abbott, Hannah," she called, holding the hat high above her head.

A small girl with short, blonde, hair stepped forward cautiously. She sat tentatively on the rickety stool, jumping when the loud voice boomed out again. "HUFFLEPUFF!" Smiling with relief, Hannah stepped down and joined the other Hufflepuff's who were cheering loudly.

Checking her list again, McGonagall called out another name, "Bones, Susan."

This time a brown haired girl walked up to the stool. She joined Hannah as a Hufflepuff.

"Boot, Terry" was the first Ravenclaw. And so it went on. Students joined their new families with pride.

When they got to the G's, Emma gave Hermione's hand a little squeeze and watched her shimmy her way through the crowd and take her seat confidently on the stool. When the hat screamed, "GRYFFINDOR!", Emma's chest swelled with pride.

"Longbottom, Neville," McGonagall proceeded. Neville shuffled forward, clutching his newly found Trevor for support and dreading what the Sorting Hat had to say about him. As it placed him in Gryffindor, Neville felt nothing but relief. Unfortunately, he forgot to take the hat off after being sorted and was forced to take a shameful walk to the front of the room and return it. McGonagall attempted to keep a stern gaze as she accepted the hat from Neville, but Emma could see a smile tugging at her lips.

The pale faced boy Emma had seen earlier was called up as Draco Malfoy and he was put in Slytherin before the hat had barely brushed his ears. Although Emma was disappointed, she wasn't really surprised. It was a known fact in the wizarding world that the Malfoys were associated with the Dark Arts. Perhaps he would consider going against the renowned tradition? She watched as he arrogantly clapped his cronies on the back and proceeded to pretend as if he had just performed a deadly curse. As they ruffled up his hair in response, Emma's hopes of changing the Malfoy family tradition dimmed, and soon became non-existent.

"Potter, Harry?" There it was. The name everyone had been waiting for. No one dared to speak, but in that one moment, it was as though each and every person shared the same thought. _Harry Potter is at Hogwarts. _Harry made his way to the stool, glancing around nervously at the hundreds of pairs of staring eyes. The hat was placed on his head, swallowing his face in its enormity. Dumbledore leaned forward anxiously, as did most of the school.

"GRYFFINDOR!" it decided. The Great Hall erupted in loud cheers and hearty applause. Even Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students were screaming for him. Harry walked to the Gryffindor table in a daze, oblivious to all the fuss. But no one, not even Harry, could have missed Albus Dumbledore at the front of the room, giving him a standing ovation, clapping as fiercely as the students.

It would have been a shock if Harry had ended up in Slytherin. Everyone knew all Slytherin graduates turned out to be dark wizards. You-Know-Who was a Slytherin! And although people knew him well, they were even more familiar with Harry's story. How he defeated the Dark Lord when he was just a baby and nobody knew why. Strange rumours had been going round ever since, that Harry must have been another powerful dark wizard and the Dark Lord wanted to destroy him before he could develop incredible powers. You-Know-Who murdered Harry's parents that night, but when he turned on Harry, he couldn't do it. He lost all his powers and vanished. Some say he died, but wise wizards say he's out there somewhere. Waiting.

Wanting the Sorting process to continue smoothly, McGonagall looked down at her list and read the next name without so much as batting an eyelash. In no time at all, she was reaching the ending of the alphabet.

"Weasley, Ronald?"

Ron stepped up, green in the face from nerves. After a moment, the hat called out "GRYFFINDOR!" and you could see his relieved expression as the green faded away. Ron's twin brothers, Fred and George, were standing up, clapping and even the remote Percy Weasley the Prefect was looking proud. Emma guessed being in Gryffindor was a family tradition. She was proud of him.

The crowd in front of the Head Table that had once been large, had diminished excessively. Only a couple of students were left. As "Zabini, Blaise" became a Slytherin, the students peered curiously at the last girl, wondering what her last name was, for nothing could beat "Zabini" they thought.

Although she didn't need the reminder, McGonagall looked down at her list multiple times before reading the only name left. "Emma?" It came out like a question, for there was no last name to accompany it.

Emma took a deep breath and did the unthinkable. She undid her plain black school robes, revealing a far more interesting outfit underneath. The sky was already darkening and the air had begun to grow chilly, making Emma's rather thick, red, jumper warm and cosy, rather than hot and bothersome. The material was woven in a flattering pattern and the long, gold, necklace that hung round her neck complemented the V-neck cut. Instead of the boring black pants the other students were forced to wear, Emma wore dark blue skinny jeans, showing off her slender legs and cute brown boots. Add a thick, brown, belt and some gold bangles and she was ready to go. She had a feeling that this outfit gave off just the impression she was looking for. Cool, confident and slightly rebellious!

Giving her strut a slight swing of the hips, Emma made her way to the stool. She sat down confidently, even daring to cross her legs. McGonagall refused to be shaken by this audacious 11-year-old, but had to eventually look to Dumbledore for help, as she could not get over this latest surprise. All he gave her as console was an amused nod of the head. McGonagall agreed, for his sake, to ignore the situation at hand and to follow the Sorting protocol. Although this exchange had lasted a mere 15 seconds, Emma was becoming anxious. Technically speaking, she hadn't broken any rules. During the summer, Emma and her Grandmother had made a few agreements, some of which included the privilege of wearing her own clothes during the school year as opposed to the mandatory uniform. That being said, Emma would repay the favour by spending every other Sunday lunch in the custody of her Grandmother. The only problem would be making sure the other kids didn't find out. Just because her Grandmother was – no. No one would ever look at her the same way if they knew who she was. It had to be kept a secret. At least for now.

Temporarily distracted from what was, so far, the most important day of her life, Emma regained her focus. After what seemed like an eternity, the Sorting Hat was finally placed on her head.


End file.
